


Welcome to the Real World

by ehcanuck



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Matrix (1999 2003 2003)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, But mostly angst, Crossover, Family, Fluff, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Minor Violence, Protectiveness, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Robots, Science Fiction, Whump, post apocalyptic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-08
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:25:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehcanuck/pseuds/ehcanuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred is just an average Joe. Right? But when a green eyed Brit stumbles into his life, his entire world is turned upside down. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hetalia or the Matrix.

"... regarding the present issue, global warming, I think we can solve the problem by building a big hero together and have it shield the Earth! Also, I won't take any objections!"

"I agree with America-san."

"There you go again Japan! State your own opinions!"

_Japan?_

"I oppose. How could anyone go with anything so illogical?"

"I disagree with both America and England!"

_America? England? What?_

**Beep.**

"Jeez. You guys are so childish! I'll give you some snacks if you calm down!"

**Beep. Beep.**

"Hey Russia. Do you have an opinion on this?"

**Beep. Beep. Beep.**

"Be QUIET! This meeting will come to order!"

_WAKE UP ALFRED!_

"PASTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

_GET UP OR TURN YOUR DAMN ALARM OFF ALREADY!... **OH FUCK THIS!**_

And the world dissolved around him as he sailed through the air and then hit the ground.

* * *

_"We've done it. We've found them."_

_"I hope you're right"_

_"We don't have to hope, it's them. I know it."_

* * *

Sitting at the kitchen table, bleary eyed, was a fine American specimen who went by the name of Alfred. He and his brother lived in the _Kemen, Aear and Menel_ apartment complex (in the _Menel_ section) by the coast in New York.

Once again he had had one of those strange recurring dreams. Everyone from their apartment complex (and a few others he couldn't identify) were in one of them at some point or another and they took place everywhere, sometimes they were in a stuffy board room or on the beach or even in Japan! It was sooo cool!

But on the other hand, he woke up feeling like he hadn't slept and very confused. Which wasn't good considering what he was going to be doing today.

He worked at a local law firm, doing his best to help each of his clients as his goal was to be their hero and today he was needing to go in to finalize his case in a large custody case before appearing in court in the afternoon. Whenever he complained about what he had to do for his pay check (he hated custody cases) his brother just laughed and said that was why he could never chain himself to a desk but needed to be outside and free. Then Alfred would point out that he worked as a fisherman and wasn't exactly free as he was trapped on his medium sized boat for weeks at a time...

That reminded him, that episode of _Transformers_ the other night! When there was an Autobot masquerading as a boat and swooping in at the last second. AWESOME! He wished he had a giant transforming robot; he could use it to protect the planet (like in that Anime that his buddy Kiku from the research department lent him).

Protect the planet...giant hero...GAH he was thinking about his dream again!

It was far too early for him to even begin attempting to process the strangeness that was last night's dream and so to get rid of the annoying, confusing thoughts, he slammed his head down on the counter.

Ah...blissful silence now reigned once more in his head.

* * *

Alfred was normally considered to be a very happy, energetic easy going person, however this was not normally, this was morning.

"Maaaaaatie."

And in mornings, Alfred was a whiny, lazy, selfish slob.

In Matthew's humble opinion of course.

"Why you push me out of beddddddddddddddddddd?"

"Because you didn't get up when your alarmmmmmm went offfffffff."

"Ma-aaaaatie"

"Al-lllllllfie"

"The sun isn't even up yet!"

"Yeah, well, you asked me to make sure you were up and moving for 5 because you had to be at your office early. Now shut up and eat your pancakes."

Little known fact, Matthew Williams is also not a morning person.

_RIGHT!_

Quickly looking at the clock, Alfred felt immediately awake as adrenaline kicked in.

He had 5 minutes before he had to leave.

Eating his pancakes without really chewing them, he ran upstairs and began changing while trying to comb his hair and brush his teeth at the same time.

Impossible you say? Clearly you have never met Alfred F. Jones!

Rushing out the door exactly five minutes later, he nearly ran over their Cuban neighbour and then past the Ukrainian from the floor above him as he tore down the stairs and then past...a moving truck?

 _SWEET!_ He loved it when someone else moved in; it was nice to meet new people!

He tried to see the newcomer for a few moments, craning his head this way and that...

Then his watch beeped at him and he remembered why he had been in such a hurry in the first place.

Work.

He now had only 2 minutes to get to their offices twenty blocks away.

Eh heh heh. Wasn't this just perfect?

As he ran off, he failed to notice the dark green eyes that followed him.

* * *

Later in the day, he began packing up his briefcase absolutely drained.

Why oh why did he agree to take on his co-worker's divorce/custody cases when he specialized as a criminal lawyer? He bemoaned for a minute or two.

He hated these types of suits, he had been in the position of the kids who were dragged all too often in by their parents and then got to hear them scream at each other (or their lawyers if it was a better day). It made him feel sick as no matter the result, there was never any real happy ending for any custody battle that made it all the way up to the courts.

Ugh. At least that was the last one that Francis had agreed to take on before his accident.

Then he mentally reprimanded himself for how happy he sounded in that last thought adding in a nice mental smack-down afterwards. He was doing this for a good cause and was being his French cousin's hero!

The reason behind his working these cases was that Francis had been sent to the hospital after being shot at by a man in a suit and falling down a flight of stairs after someone had pushed him down and out of harm's way.

Besides there was nothing new for him to do so he could always lend a helping hand (especially as this time 'round it wasn't because Francis hadn't drunk to much the night before with his Bad Friend Trio).

He should go visit the bloke anyway to tell how the cases today had all broken down and it wasn't like there was anyone at home waiting for him (Matthew had left the Battery (port) with the tide earlier in the afternoon).

Spinning on his heel, he made his way out of his office and down onto the streets, heading to the hospital.

A half hour later, Alfred found himself surrounded by white walls and the smell of sanitizer and soap.

He shuddered, hating the whole perfection of it all. Everywhere was clean, white and smelling of cleaning products, it was freaking creepy. NOTHING should ever be that white or clean, a bit of dirt is healthy for you! (Or so he thought anyway.)

After talking to the receptionist (name-tag read Michael Popper), he found out which room his co-worker was in and was soon standing in front of the door for room 342.

Knocking, he was startled when he was answered by a very non-French, "Come in."

Curious, he opened the door and there in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, was a man that Alfred had been searching for, the man present in all of his dreams. He had seen him in armour, as a father figure, a pirate, in a red coat in the rain and as an unbreakable spirit in an English World War 2 uniform...

There in the chair sat a man with sandy brown hair, green eyes and a sweater vest, who, despite Alfred never having seen him before caused him to feel like he had known him all his life, eyebrows and all.

His mouth began to move on its own "Engl...?"

However once his mind caught up, he instantly shut it. What had he been about to say again?

Ah well.

As Alfred attempted to process the odd feeling of _jamais vu, déjà connu_ , the other merely raised an eyebrow, took a sip of his tea and asked the question Al was longing to say himself. "Who are you?"

As Francis was sleeping, he and Arthur (as his name turned out to be) began to chat, somewhat awkwardly at first but by the time visiting hours were over, they were nattering away like old friends (and bickering too but that was beside the point).

Over their conversation they had discussed where they were from, favourite foods, books, movies, anything and everything that came to mind. Turns out it had been Arthur who had pushed Francis down out of the way of the gun fire and had come to apologize for accidentally knocking the other down the stairs. They had never met before as Arthur was new to New York.

At this newly gathered information, Alfred offered his cell number so that he could call him in case the British man ever got lost.

Alfred quickly jotted down what he had wanted to tell his old co-worker and wrote down his well wishes before offering to walk the other home after they were kicked out.

They lived in the same complex.

How great was that?

Though Arthur was actually in the _Aear_ section rather than in the _Menel_ one.

Details.

Basically, his new best friend was now less than five minutes away from him and they could get together at any time to play video games or something and he could have company when Mattie was away! This was wonderful!

* * *

The next few weeks exceeded Alfred's expectations. When Alfred wasn't working, he and Arthur would meet up and talk. As time passed they began to go all over New York, looking at all sorts of museums and old buildings as Alfred discovered just how much the other loved history. He could lecture for hours alone on one specific piece as if he had been present at its conception and there was nothing he didn't seem to know about. Normally he would find this boring but how Arthur told American history made his heart soar and made him filled with pride.

He could not seem to spend enough time with the Brit, and his co-workers (specifically a Hungarian Bankruptcy lawyer and a recovered French divorced/custody lawyer) were telling him to just fuck him already and stop telling them about him.

They were just jealous, the lot of them.

Even better, Arthur was the only one who seemed to take his pseudo-insomnia seriously and trusting him, Alfred told him about them all while the other just listened attentively. Even after he told him of just who was in them, the other took him seriously.

So, after they had known each other for but a month (though it felt like a lifetime), Alfred decided to take the plunge and tell him his biggest problem with the dreams.

"You know Arthur, it's the strangest feeling. When I'm dreaming it feels like I'm awake and when I'm awake it feels like a dream."

There was a fair pregnant pause before Arthur just looked at him with a relieved smile.

"Nothing wrong with that. Who knows? That might just be the truth of it."

* * *

_Progress?_

_It's him. I knew it was him and it was. He's stirring but I don't know if I can keep this up!_

_Calm down comrade. Keep watching him. We will make our move soon enough._

_Right...do you hear that?_

_What?_

_Are you sure this line is clean?_

_**Click** _

* * *

Alfred had felt for all his life that he was straight, but now he was beginning to question that. The Brit had become very special to him, more so then any of the girls he had ever dated, so he had decided to take the other on a very casual date.

That should help him sort out his feelings, platonic or a bit more.

However as he was walking down through the _Kemen_ sections on the way to Artie's room, he failed to notice a hand reach out from a barely opened door and was promptly yanked into the room.

As he got over his surprise and his eyes adjusted to the light, he was fairly shocked to see that his kidnapper (or whatever) was none other than the man he was going to go see.

"A-Arthur? What is?"

"I'm sorry love. There's no time to explain really. Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes"

"Then jump!"

Grabbing the other's hand, the English man took a flying leap through the window, pulling Alfred down after him just as the door to the room they were in was broken down.

* * *

Soon enough they were in what Alfred believed to be the dingiest and sketchiest area of New York and whenever he tried to get a word out of his jumpy, paranoid companion all he got was a shushing that would put the average librarian to shame.

Shesh, what was his deal?

As soon as they were inside one of the most practically condemned building Alfred had ever seen, his patience finally gave out.

"Arthur!" He hissed

"Shush!" was his answer. Not good enough.

"NO! I have had enough of shushing and the 'be quiet's'. Now tell me Arthur Kirkland. What. Is. Going. On. And do not say nothing. You did not just drag me through a window, across town and into one of the nastiest buildings ever, for nothing and I will not go further until you do." He huffed.

The other then turned and gave him an almost apologetic smile before he said "Do you remember what you said to me that one day in the park? That your dreams are more real than your reality?"

At Alfred's nod, he pressed on "Well, there is more to that then just an idle thought. There is someone up those stairs that can answer any question you have ever had on the topic. Now let me ask you again. Do you trust me?"

"Yes. More than anything, though I sometimes don't know why."

"Good, because I would do anything to protect you. Something I failed at long ago as your big brother but that is something I refuse to ever repeat."

"Wha?"

"I will not lose you again. Now please, there is little time. Come on."

Alfred then decided to swallow his anxieties and trust the man who had turned his world upside down, he followed him up the stairs.

* * *

They entered a sparsely decorated room, the wooden floors looking as if they barely supported the two chairs and carpet.

A figure in a long black coat stood up from one and turned to the nervous American, offering him his hand.

"Welcome Alfred, I am Morpheus and I am honoured to meet you"

 _Morpheus?_ Was all that ran through his mind in that second. _The Morpheus that every criminal agency in the world would like to get their hands on and arrest. What have I gotten myself into?_

Instead of voicing that, he instead lightly took the man's hand and shook it, all the while given Arthur the most scathing look he could manage.

"Please, sit. I'm sure you have questions. I can see it. I wish I had time to explain the answers to them, but sadly time is against us. So I will be brief. Have you ever felt like you are not control of your life? That there is something beyond you pulling the strings?"

Alfred interrupted and stood to leave. "If I'm here to hear a religious sermon, please save it. I'm not interested in what you're selling."

Morpheus continued undaunted "You feel it. You have felt it your whole life. You feel it as I do. There is something wrong with this world. You don't know what it is, but you sense it. There is something not quite right that you can't put your finger on. You know of what I'm talking about?"

That feeling?

That feeling plagued his every waking moment particularly after one of those dreams.

Wordlessly he nodded and sat back down.

"We call it the Matrix. Do you want to know what it is?"

Alfred wets his suddenly dry lips and croaks "Yes."

"The Matrix is everywhere. It is everything. You can see it, you can feel it, touch it, taste it, hear it and yet at the same time you cannot. The Matrix is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth."

"W-What truth?"

Morpheus leaned forward "That you are a captive, a slave. Bound into servitude and imprisoned within the confines of your own mind. They keep you subdued and ignorant in order to use you for their own ends. However, it is impossible to describe what the Matrix is; you must see it for yourself."

He brought both hands out in front of him and opened the first, showing a small blue pill nestled in the palm.

"You take the blue pill and all of this goes away. Me, this room, Arthur. Everything. You go back to your normal life.

He then turned the other hand up and a small red pill nestled there. "You take the red pill and I will give you the answers to all of your questions."

He didn't want to be here, he didn't understand what was going on! But this stranger said that if he took the blue one that Arthur would disappear from his life so as much as he wanted to tell him to shove that red pill somewhere unpleasant, his hand reached forward and grabbed the red one and swallowed it

Behind him he heard a sigh and the creaking of wood as it is released from pressure, turning he saw a relieved looking Arthur standing there.

"Well then, follow me."

* * *

Alfred followed Morpheus into another room, filled with technology beyond his wildest dreams with three other figures in it. A Caucasian woman with short black hair in tight leather clothing and sunglasses, a somewhat-Asian looking man in black clothing, also wearing sunglasses and then...the third man turned around.

The other unknown man from his dreams. "Good to see you again, Соединенные Штаты Америки," he says, smile all teeth.

Before he can answer Arthur ushers me past and gets him to sit on the chair.

Then he found himself hooked up to basically every machine in the room.

_Just what the hell was this anyway?_

He never had the chance to ask as the wires slowly seemed to melt against his skin and the liquid began to slowly cover his body and then he seemed to lose his ability to speak.

"Going into replication" Came from the Asian man.

_Wasn't someone going to tell him something?_

"Do we have the signal yet?"

_Anything?_

"Yes, I found him."

_It was getting farther up his body, crawling up his neck._

"Target locked"

_ARTHURRRRRRRRRR HELP!_

"He's going into arrest!"

_His brother always said he was too damn trusting and that it would be his undoing_

"Now Link! Now!"

His voice at last working, he let out a hoarse scream as the wire goop made it's way up his face and then down his throat.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out from the sudden pain was a look of absolute anguish on Arthur's face.

* * *

Pink.

It's everywhere.

All shades seem to be covered.

Surrounding him.

Drowning him.

It tastes like acid, burning his throat.

There are wires snaking around him, burrowing into his flesh, seeming almost to consume him.

_Where on Earth was he?_

He shoved his hand up (or at least what he hoped to be up) as he pulled the tube from his mouth and burst out gasping into a vision that would quite possibly haunt him for however much longer he lived.

There were rows upon rows of pods just like his, each with a shadowed figure in it. He was in one of millions, maybe even billions, far too many to ever count or process. Staring out at the space in front of him he could see columns, larger than any skyscraper, each with more rows of pods jutting of them and below him confirmed more of them same. Beside him he saw a man who looked very like his brother without his hair... Oh dear God.

There was no way this was real.

He tried to pinch himself, slap and punch himself, to jolt himself awake but there was no use. The hellish images in front of him remained the same.

Then a robot ( _a real robot!_ ) came flying up, however it was not the kind of robot Alfred could always envision being created but was rather something from a horror movie or his worst nightmares. The thing looked almost like a giant spider, wires, claws and tubes all of which looked ready to tear him limb from limb.

Just what had Arthur dragged him into?

The _thing_ lifted him by his neck with one of its long tentacle/arm/claw things and it's red 'eye' seemed to examine him for a moment before a voice droned out.

**"Needs reprogramming. Send to the Source"**

_Reprogramming?_ He didn't like the sound of that.

However, it appeared he was not to be given a choice in the matter as he was dropped back into the pink goop and every tube connected to his body popped off. Then came a flushing sound as the pod began to quickly drain itself of the nasty pink liquid.

Then he was shooting through a series of pipes, going left then right then left again then dropping down before the pipes again took a turn to the left.

Feeling weaker than he had ever felt before, the American stopped even trying to resist the pull of the liquid and just whimpered as his body bounced off the piping walls.

_Arthur help me!_

Was his last coherent thought before his head was dinged harshly off the wall at another turn and the world began to spin. He barely registered something large burst through the section farther ahead and then warm hands grabbing him.

"Welcome back Alfred to the real world," was all that he heard before the blackness completely consumed him yet again.

* * *

Alfred's body was on fire.

Everything hurt.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Vaguely he was aware of voices around him, murmuring and then he felt a cool hand on his forehead.

He knew that hand, he had dreamed of holding it for the month he'd known him.

"A-Arthur?"

His weak voice is gut wrenching, even to him.

There was a sound of surprise and the hand almost left his burning skin before a minute whimper from him caused it to return and the hand's thumb to lightly rub his temple.

"I'm here lad."

Alfred struggles to open his eyes and though the light blinds him, he is still able to zero in on the others face.

He manages to croak out, "Am I dying? It hurts so much"

There was a choking sound and the cool hand is removed only for it to be replaced by a pair of soft, chapped lips.

"No love, far from it. You are about to live again for the first time in a long time. Sleep."

* * *

The English gentleman looked down on the other, who was now sleeping again and let out a shaky breath.

When they had managed to intercept the American, after managing to break into the most dangerous place on Earth, escape into the tunnels and lose the Sentinels without losing a single crew member, he hadn't been able to believe it was real.

But it was.

He looked down at the prone figure on the bed feeling both delight and worry. At long last he had managed to find him.

His little brother.

That thought alone brought tears to his eyes; he could at last redeem himself for having failed him long ago.

He had nearly despaired when his search for the others seemed to prove fruitless and the members of Zion's council grew impatient. In fact it was only with the support of the One, of Neo (and of course of Trinity and Morpheus as well) that he had been able to go out on this last mission.

And he had found them.

However, he nearly gave up again when he saw that none of them were ready to let go and be freed. They were still oblivious to what had happened, to what had been taken from them.

He had felt a bit of hope when the Frog (of all people!) seemed to remember him and had helped him escape the Agents sent after him but that spark was lost when he was separated from him and when he found him again in the hospital he was distraught to find his memory wiped.

But then, he came.

The Englishman had long thought the American dead but when he came in and nearly said his name, he nearly cried in joy.

Not that he'd ever admit it to the git mind you.

It was probably only because of man's instinctive hatred of being controlled and lied to that he was even able to begin to perceive that something was wrong with the world.

Which was a miracle in and of itself. Not only was the American incredibly dense when it came to reading the atmosphere but the machines were infinitely more careful when it came to pulling the wool over their eyes. They could not afford _them_ fighting, yet despite their efforts it had still failed.

"England! You're needed on deck."

Yes, his America was always prone to fight for his freedom regardless of whether or not he was truly aware it was in jeopardy.

With him free, they could now really begin to fight back.

Truly smiling for the first time in centuries, he left, closing the door behind him.

* * *

When Alfred opened his eyes again he found himself in a fairly small room on what appear to be a Murphy bed. Shifting a little, he realized he was wearing some loose hand woven clothing that definitely weren't his.

_How much did I drink last night? This wasn't his room either. Where was he?_

Slowly sitting up he rubbed the back of his head, then froze.

There was a plug on the back of his head.

_Oh dear God, **there was a plug on the back of his head.**_

Before he could really start panicking, there was a light knock on the door then Arthur came into the room.

Gone was the ever present sweater vest and slacks and in their place was the same thing he was wearing, a home spun cream coloured shirt and dark pants.

As the other walked across and sat down beside him, Alfred was astonished by how short he was. Then he realized how short he was.

And the momentarily delayed panic attack was revived and soon Arthur found himself in one of the American's patented Death Hugs as the other tried to begin to figure just what he had done.

After a moment or two, a small childish voice that Alfred barely recognized as his own said "What it going on Arthur? What is happening to me? Why am I small? What is going on?"

The other sighed and patted him on the back, indicating he wanted to be let go.

"That's a long story. One that I'd rather not get into, as I'm sure you can understand. Or, rather, I'd rather not get into parts of it, even thinking about them now..." The Brit shuddered before he continued.

"To start with, why you shrunk. Before I can explain that I need to tell you this, you are an anthropomorphic manifestation of a nation, now before you scoff..."

Alfred interrupted him, confused. "An anthro-whatsis?"

"An anthropomorphic manifestation:" At the still blank look, he sighed and Alfred could've sworn he muttered something about still being the same git.

"Personification."

Al shook his head again.

"No? Um...embodiment?"

That didn't seem to fit with definition that Alfred was familiar with, best for him to continue.

"Avatar? Representation? Incarnation?"

His neck was starting to get sore.

"Ugh, you really need to expand your vocabulary! Since there seems to be no better way to explain, you are the living, breathing land of the United States of America! Each blade of grass to the rabbits to government to economy! That clear?" Arthur huffed

"Not really." When the other glared, he quickly backtracked, "I mean, that's just ludicrous! How can one person embody something so big? Why would such a person exist anyway?"

"Is it really so hard to believe? You've just woken up to find your world has been a lie and AI robots exist. Is it that much of a step?"

"But that! Isn't that Matrix-thingy based on messing with the brain's interceptors (he had gone to school)? AI machines are technology! Both grounded in _reality._ This anthropological whatchamacalit is like saying to me that the tooth fairy is real!"

"You interrupted me, rotter. As to your previous question with why the personifications exist, we don't know. As to how can we, we just do, that was how we have always been."

"Well, if we're the land then why do I have _plugs in my body?_ "

"Because nearly all that make up your remaining populations have those plugs."

"...That's not what I meant! Give me some sort of proof then that this is true! That it is real! I trusted you Arthur, you promised me answers but you're doing a piss-poor job explaining!"

"...Fine." Suddenly the miniature version of Arthur was too close to him, emerald eyes inches away from his wide blue ones. "I will."

Then he kissed him.

And in that moment, Alfred would've believed anything you told him.

Pale, chapped soft lips pressed against his own.

He could not believe this moment that he'd imagined was coming true

He was blissfully and utterly useless, all possible motion torn from him as the other then straddled him and pulled him closer.

It was only when a tentative tongue pushed against his lip that he remembered that he should probably do something and he opened his mouth to let the other in...

And his senses were completely overloaded.

As his lip part he can suddenly taste salt and the sea. He can suddenly feel the crash of the salty ocean against the shore and as he places a hand of the other's shoulder in an attempt to right himself, the instant his hand comes in contact he feels the chill at the top of his mountains and the lonely cry of the howling wind. He feels Arthur's heart beat with the strength of those who those who had settled in what had been viewed as uninhabitable and wild and thrived.

With that simple kiss he could feel everything.

He sat there dazed for a moment or two before he realized the kiss was over.

Wetting dry lips and throat he whispers "What are you?"

"I'm the remnants of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland just as you are those of the United States of America." He said it so calmly too, something Alfred could not understand as _his world_ had just turned _sideways_ on its axis and it should not be _normal_ to say it like that.

"That is why we are small. Your economy is gone. Government? Gone. Population? Humans- greatly decreased, everything else is nearly non-existent. We reflect that. The war with the machines (which I'm getting to) destroyed much of what we were and if we were simply tied to the fate of the humans and their ideas of the planet, we would not be here having this conversation. It is because there are still things growing on our land, people call themselves ours and living creatures still manage to inhabit our earth. The land is still here, so, so are we. Just a bit smaller. Clear?"

"I guess."

"Now, onto the Great War of the Machines..."

* * *

After telling the tale of the creation of AI, the wrongs committed on both sides and how eventually the humans and machines had formed a symbiotic relation (though it was unwanted on one side), as soon as the boy had processed that, England had taken him to broadcasting room and took him through the Construct, into a computer program.

Alfred had just been delighted that he was his normal height again for a moment or two before he realized just what they were doing and gave England his expected geeking-out reaction.

When he calmed down enough, Arthur showed him their past, drawing on his memories, irrecoverably convincing Alfred of who he had been and at last explaining all the dreams that he had been having.

Then Arthur (as Alfred preferred to call him still) showed him the world as it had become, giving a visual to the mentally scaring tale he had been told earlier. Images of the fields, of the abuse of the machines by their citizens, the collapse of the economies, the fights and the last defiant moment flashed before them showing the guilt of both sides for the end result.

It was only once all the images faded and they were once again standing in the infinite white space did America actually give voice to the thoughts that had been plaguing him.

"Why did they keep us around? Was it because they the 'possessed' the land or what? Why were we put into the Matrix? Would it not have been easier to kill us or whatever it is you do with us?"

Arthur looked anguished as he slowly answered "We were no longer important to them in that sense. We were connected to the land so through us, the machines could tap into the Earth's energy and that of our people. The other more useful thing to them was that, to be blunt, we were a way to easily keep them down."

"What?"

"We were shortcuts. You could find anyone in the system through us faster than sending an agent after them and they could find someone much faster in the real world as well if they looked through the right mind. That and if we are subdued, then the minds of those connected to us are dulled as well and are much more compliant. We were not just enslaved and turned into a power-plant but we were also unknowingly informants."

As they were brought back to reality, Alfred found himself looking again into tired green eyes as the original English gentleman leaned over the cables and chair that he had just been connected to. His last words to him before they were disconnected ringing in Alfred's ears

_"A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality. So we shall not rest until we all stand free and then we shall set about reclaiming what has always been ours!"_

Alfred couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations  
> Kemen – (Elvish Earth)  
> Aear- (Elvish- Sea)  
> Menel (Elvish- heavens/sky)  
> jamais vu, déjà connu (Fr- never seen, already known.)  
> Соединенные Штаты Америки (Rus- United States of America)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hetalia or the Matrix.

_"A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality. So we shall not rest until we all stand free and then we shall set about reclaiming what has always been ours!"_

* * *

A lonely ship could be seen bobbing against the waves as it approached the harbour with the tide. Above the seagulls call, a fine tenor voice could be heard.

_I'm a fisherman's son got fisherman's ways_  
I fished with my father in my young days  
I learned the fine craft of the fisherman's trade  
Just to pass to my son so he'll do the same 

As the vessel turned to the starboard side, one could see the ship floating low in the water, boasting of it's crew's successful venture.

_The sea is my lifeline the shore is my home_  
I've been to your cities I didn't stay long  
I stared at the bright lights the dark city ways  
I'll tell you that's not for me, no I didn't stay. 

_Singing La La La La La La, La La La La La La La_

Pulling up to the dock, deck hands immediately swarmed over the sides, scurrying about like ants to secure the watercraft.

_Some days are rough so we roll with the waves_  
This living is tough, slack is the pay  
But we leave with the sunrise, we wake at the dawn  
Singing the fisherman's song. 

_Singing La La La La La La, La La La La La La La_

After the treasures from the hold were successfully unloaded and the others gone, the source of the singing, the skipper, could be seen coming down the gangplank, things in hand.

_I'm a fisherman's son got fisherman's blood_  
Just hauling the lobster, jigging the cod  
And if you don't like me then leave me alone  
And I'll go on singing my fisherman's song. 

_Singing La La La La La La, La La La La La La La_

The man switched to whistling the rest as he weaved in and out of the wharves and through the streets of New York. Eventually he reached an aged apartment complex and went into the Menel section.

_Singing La La La La La La, La La La La La La La_

_I'm a fisherman's son got fisherman's ways_  
I fished with my father in my young days  
I learned the fine craft of the fisherman's trade  
Just to pass to my son so he'll do the same 

**SLAM**

* * *

Matthew opened the door and entered the ever silent flat with a sigh.

He hated coming home to an empty house.

It had been that way ever since he'd moved out of his parents' place, yet he could still almost envision the lights being on and a warm hug (read: tackle) upon his safe return. It seemed so real at times, it felt like his heart was torn out when it turned out to be empty.

No, the place was as quiet as it always was.

Though it was strange, with every creaking step of the hardwood his ears seemed to strain to catch the fading echo of boyish laughter...

Maybe he should get a cat.

A big, poofy, white Persian cat that he would call Kumajiro. Either that or Knut.

He was sure that the feline would be delighted with how he smelt of fish and some of the catch he always brought home with him...

Putting his keys in the bowl by the door, he quickly dismissed the thought. There was no way he could keep a pet when he was gone so often.

Leaving him alone in his empty house.

As he made his way to the kitchen, he could have sworn that out of the corner of his eye, he saw a unfamiliar (yet so right) picture hanging on the wall, though he knew well even as he wheeled about to check, that there wasn't one. Then he smelt hamburgers cooking, even though he knew damn well that all the food in the house would've expired in the month he was gone.

He was clearly going insane...

May as well order pizza then.

* * *

After a filling dinner of Chinese Food (the pizza place had been too busy to even bother, an hour wait time, _really?_ ), Matthew wearily made his way past the never used guest room and just about flopped down on the mattress.

Then realized that he had taken all the sheets and blankets off before he left and washed them.

Grudgingly getting back up he stumbled over to the closet and blindly searched for some blankets. His fingers first closed over leather, pulling it out, he took it to be a jacket in the moonlight and put it on as his other hand groped for the soft fleece blankets he knew were there.

At last finding one, he wrapped himself in it, grabbed a pillow and collapsed again on the bed, falling asleep to the familiar smell of leather, hamburgers and Old Spice.

* * *

As the sun creeped in through the window, Matt lazily sat up and stretched.

Felt good not having to sleep on a worn cot and being woken at God-Awful in the morning. _Though, on the other hand,_ he thought as he staggered over to the bathroom _it was weird not to feel the ground pitching and yawing under him. He needed his land legs back._

Looking at himself in the mirror, he found his eyes immediately drawn to the leather jacket he barely remembered putting on the night before.

_This wasn't his._

It was his father's bomber jacket.

Or rather, his grandfather's bomber jacket.

THE family heirloom. The one that his dad had decided _against_ passing on to him after he quit being a bush pilot, preferring the sway of the ocean to the call of the sky. Saying he'd save it for someone who'd really appreciate it. Miser.

_So how the hell did it get in his closet?_

As he tried to take it off awkwardly above his head (why was he such an idiot after just having woken up? The thing wasn't even freaking zipped up!), he smelt it again and was awash by sensation.

Boisterous laughter. Too tight hugs. Idiotic plans. An enormous smile. _Alfred._

No. There was never such a person, that name did not quite sit with the face he was suddenly seeing. No, this jacket was America's.

His brother.

He remembered. He had been among the last to be caught and trapped, he had seen the fields, the pods his sibling and all of his 'family' had been encased in. The war of the two clashing dominant forces and the destruction of their known world. The burning of the sky. The scorched Earth. The Matrix.

Taking a deep breath of not air, he proceeded to have a bit of a mental break down. Not a vocal one or one that anyone could pick up on or else the watchdogs of the system would be on him in seconds.

Inside his mind he screamed and screamed and screamed before he at last calmed down.

So America had been living with him before and something happened that caused the system to attempt to erase his entire existence.

Maybe he had gotten out.

Though when he was captured, him and all the other remaining free nations had fallen with him. Was there anyone out there to rescue them?

He needed to talk to someone.

Grabbing his keys, he ran out the door. Still in his pyjamas and jacket with the towel he was going to use for his shower on his shoulder.

He needed to go talk to the most paranoid person he knew and an avid conspiracy theorist at that...

Gilbert, or rather, Prussia.

* * *

_How is the security looking?_

_Tight. In both the system and out. I can't recall a time I've seen more Sentinels in one piece. I don't think we're going to be able to get in again. Not easily anyway._

_But what about the others? We can't just leave them!_

_..._

_Sorry, I was talking to myself . I know how badly you want to get a certain someone out._

_..._

_Very well, if you're done scouting come down from the surface, we'll remain where we are. Sending coordinates._

_Received, see you in a few days._

_Clear._

* * *

Ever since Alfred had gotten aboard the _Nebuchadnezzar_ (Which was freaking AWESOME!), he had been struggling to reclaim his memories with the help of the nations aboard the craft and training to work in the Matrix.

He had even done his hand-on-hand combat training with a terror with a pipe. (Which was somewhat scary, not that he'd admit it)

He hadn't forgotten about his promise in the months he'd spent free. He wanted Toris (Lithuania?) to stare in awe at the halls of Zion, he wanted Kiku (or Japan he supposed) to see the great hovercrafts, he wanted to drink with Matthais (pretty sure the man was Danish) again. He wanted to his brother to breathe the free air as he did.

That however, did nothing to help conquer Alfred's fear of heights.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes America! This is the only simulation you have yet to pass then you can join us in the Hacks. Take a deep breath and remember this world exists only in your mind, this jump is nothing."

He did not think that a jump of _30 feet_ (it's just 9 meters you git!) was nothing.

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

He did not know how Superman did it (he was a fictional character, but pshhh! Details.).

"Are you actually that afraid to jump?"

As Alfred didn't look up and continued to stare down at the drop, England took that as a yes. It was strange, he had his little boy back yet there was now another element present in the America he loved. Living as 'Alfred' had changed him somewhat, he was quieter for one and another... he was afraid of heights.

The man who had introduced planes to the world was now _afraid of heights._

Though it wasn't his fault, the Brit supposed. When the nations of the world had been attacked by the machines, it had been America that was the first attacked. They hadn't even had time to conduct any sort of defence before everything burned. The Nations had looked for America in the aftermath, in the charred fields, scorched remains of forests and in the rubble of his once proud cities, but there was nothing.

They had thought him dead.

This was likely why the lad's memories were buried deeper then he, England's, had been. As the first captured (and likely half dead when he was placed in it to boot!), he had been in the system longer and with his personality...he had probably had to start over as someone else more than a few times, burying his true self ever deeper under his new identities of David, Amelia, James, Benjamin and who-knows-else.

Taking a deep calming breath (shouting about how the _Old_ America would've done it would do neither of them good), England gently placed a hand on the others shoulder.

He couldn't _believe_ he was about to say this.

"It's all in your head America... Don't think about the jump, think happy thoughts instead. About eating a hamburger or some other daft nonsense." Please let him not comment. Please let him not comment. Please let him not comment...

"What so I could fly off to the second star to the right and straight on 'til morning?"

Damn it.

"No. Because it will take your mind of the non-existent jump."

Well then, Alfred could at least try that...but what was happy memory? All the times he would have previously thought to qualify hadn't really been real, just could he use?

Thinking, he began to pace. Happy memory, happy memory, happ...then it hit him in a flash.

_"Well then Mr. Cottontail I think it's best you go home, it's getting dark and I should also be heading home. I think Lalassa will be getting worried ."_

_Setting the bunny down, he began to toddle off up the steep hill where from the top he could see the whole world! (Not really, just the town and harbour.) A new ship had come in! That was wonderful! Perhaps he'd go by the tavern later to hear some of the sailors' yarns..._

_Then all thought stopped as he spotted the name of the ship and a familiar mop of blond hair weaving through the crowds below._

_England!_

_He immediately began to tear down the hill, arms spread to keep his balance as his legs pumped as fast as they could._

_He got to the bottom of the hill just as England broke free of the crowd and he instantly leaped into waiting arms and laughing emerald eyes..._

And America found himself on the other side of the gap. (Having unintentionally acted out his memory as it played out in front of his eyes)

"Whoa..."

As England leaped over to join him, the Brit shouted "So what was that about mocking Peter Pan? I told you it would work."

Ignoring the same laughing emerald eyes in front of him from his memory, he answered "England...you were so big back then! Though I think that puffy shirt made you look ridiculous."

Confused at first, enlightenment slowly crossed England's features and America found himself in a bear hug "Y-You remember?"

"Not quite. I just remembered playing with a rabbit then meeting you as you came to visit me."

Brief disappointment flashed across England's face as he leaned back and then gave a small smile, hand reaching up to cup the others cheek "That's a start. Baby steps I guess."

* * *

Francis was having a minor breakdown. He had adored French culture and cuisine all his life, despite having never been to France (a crime!) but now he found himself wanting to enter the local bakery when he smelt the smell of baked goods floating in the air.

And not for the reason he normally would- to get a croissant or baguette. Nope. He had suddenly developed a fondness for scones.

And tea.

Elizabeta at work had even begun to tease him about being pregnant as the British cuisine he would normally not touch with a ten foot pole, was suddenly all he wanted to eat.

He was fairly sure someone had drugged him. What else could it be? He had that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that was telling him he was forgetting something important and bits of his memories didn't line up. Roofies perhaps?

Having no other option, he decided to go approach his old friend Gilbert about it, he could at least help him figure out what had happened.

Or at least, that was what he had thought would happen. Barely five minutes into his visit an out of breath Matthew came barging in.

* * *

Upon entering and seeing Francis, Canada immediately began to backtrack and think of some excuse for being there. Gilbert was paranoid (he believed practically every _realistic_ conspiracy theory. Like the ones surrounding the moon landings or JFK assassinations. Not so much the Hey-Presto fold the dollar bill and there's 9/11 ones) and would at least give what he had to say a chance. Francis on the other hand would likely have him institutionalized. After all, he had nearly successfully committed England in 2021.

Grabbing the textbook he'd brought with him (from an old night class), he ditched his original plan and instead randomly opened it before he placed it on the coffee table and turned it to the two on the couch.

It was the chapter on the 100 Years War and Jeanne D'Arc. Oh goody. Wasn't that just his luck, he thought as the two then leaned forward, eyeing the pages with interest. Better get this over with.

"I was wondering if either of you knew more about this as I found the book didn't go into as much depth as I would've liked."

After all, bother Gilbert and Francis had gotten a BA in history, it was a reasonable question  he was just going to get a rant as an answer. However when the verbal onslaught didn't come, Canada curiously looked towards his father figure.

Gilbert looked kind of disinterested (he found the 100 year war boring in comparison to the Austrian War of Succession after all) but Francis... he had blanched and had a distant look in his eyes as his fingers subconsciously loving stroked the image of the heroine and he muttered:

"Ma pauvre Jeanne...Bâtard Angleterre."

There was a pregnant pause as both Gilbert and Canada took notice of their friend's mutterings. "Your Jean? Bastard England? Francis, this was centuries ago, why are you getting worked up?...And since when can you speak French?"

Canada jolted, he hadn't noticed that. Francis (to his great shame) had never had the opportunity to learn any French, despite the fact he was obsessed with everything that came from the European nation. He'd always had to settle for sticking random words he'd learned into conversations and talking with an over the top accent. Judging by Francis's expression he hadn't even been aware of his reaction to the maid of Orleans but the fact that he had meant...perhaps he could trust the other after all.

Closing the textbook Canada said "It's alright Francis. I feel the same thing when I sometimes look at a photograph of Lester B. Pearson or of Champlain and I'm sure that Gilbert here does to with Freid..."

The German-American interrupted with a shout "Old Man Fritz!" Then his mind caught up with his mouth and he whispered "What the heck?"

"Like I said, not much to be concerned about. Hell, I even feel that nostalgic feeling with anything Canadian, recently it's even begun to feel like I really knew them. Like I knew what kind of suits MacDonald liked to wear or how Nellie McClung liked her coffee. The feeling gets even stronger in the dreams I've been having recently, they're so vivid and detailed, it feels like I was actually there, that that is my reality despite the fact I know that they would've occurred centuries ago. Feels more real than reality sometimes...weird right?" Nervously, he let out a small laugh.

How much should he say? Should he try and explain everything or slowly ease them into the idea? If he eased them into it, he risked the system finding out and coming after him but if he told them everything there was the possibility they'd react badly and he'd be caught anyway.

However, when the other two in the room didn't laugh at him or mock him but rather flinched, Canada felt hopeful. Why not just go for it, despite the risks, it looked like their true selves were beginning to stir.

"I guess I'm not the only one then? I'm not the only one who thinks that there is something wrong with this world?"

There was silence for a moment before Francis stammered out "Wh-What do you mean?"

"Premièrement, je sais que tu n'as jamais eu l'occasion d'apprendre le français (moi non plus) et quand même tu peux comprendre que je dis. C'est vrai n'est pas?"

"Yes." Was the single word that came past suddenly dry lips. "Yes I can. But how?"

"Because you always knew it, it is your mother tongue Francis. Throw off the wool that has been pulled over your eyes! It is no coincidence that you love Jeanne D'Arc just as it isn't one that I do Trudeau and Gilbert his Old Fritz. It is not one that you know French despite having never learned it or that any slight against France is a slight against you. This is the greatest conspiracy ever successfully pulled off. The Public has no clue, the media doesn't and neither do the world leaders even! Only very few have ever realized the truth.

Taking a steadying breath, he carried on. "You know of Morpheus, of Trinity? Of all the top hackers in he world? The ones that the world governments would love to get their hands on?"

Gilbert nods, gesturing to the adjacent room where, through the doors, thousands of newspaper articles were connected by red, gold, black and white string.

"They are on those lists for one reason only. They are there for exposing to certain individuals this cover up. The one that not even the governments themselves are aware of. The truth that this world is not real nor is the air you are breathing or the couch you are seated on."

Over the confused noises and words, he remained silent as reached over and grabbed the nearest object, a television remote.

Francis, obviously attempting to 'humour' him asked "Then where are we?"

Gilbert on the other hand looked like he took what Canada had said seriously and mused "This has to do with that question everyone is asking on the 'net, right? This is about the Matrix."

"Yeah, it has everything to with that."

"Then I want nothing to do with this. People who ask that question **disappear** Matt. I don't want to among those woken up one night to have a bag shoved over my head."

Taking on a soothing tone, Francis decided to interject his two cents. "Besides Matt. That is impossible. Of course this is real..."

Frustrated, Canada interrupted not wanting to lose the audience he had left "Is it really that hard to believe when you have experienced what you have? The dreams. The mismatching memories. That niggling feeling that you know there is supposed to be someone else here with you?" As he said that, the Canadian slowly tilted his head to the left and the remote he was holding at eye level, well, **the remote followed.**

The others, unable to tear their eyes away watch as the remote bent almost double without any force or breaking and watched entranced as Canada's other hand made a pinching motion at the top and the controller began to stretch.

Wide eyed, Gilbert whispered out "Awesome."

"You two were with me that day. We were the last ones caught and assimilated. We have slept for far too long. Remained idle and complaint for far too long. Wake up Prussia and France, it is time The Bad Touch Trio (sadly minus Spain) wreaks havoc on the world once more."

He had them.

He could tell by their expressions.

_He had them back._

They remembered. They remembered being in a bunker in the North with Russia, the Nordics, Germany and him, the last ones free (the robots had had problems until then with the cold). They remembered hearing the metal rend around them as the machines swooped in for the kill on them and the last of their free children. They remembered being drugged, dragged into the pods and being stripped of everything. They remembered all the lifetimes they had spent in the system.

He knew simply because their faces reflected what he had felt earlier when he remembered. Sorrow. Rage. Surprise. Dread. Fear. Determination.

"You have my attention, mon cher." France said.

Prussia nodded before interjecting "Though now what? I don't think we can just say 'Excuse me, but I would like to leave so please release me from your power plant. Pretty please with a Cherry on top?' So what are we going to do?"

Before Canada could even attempt an answer, he was interrupted by knocking on the door. So instead he hissed "Where you expecting company?"

"Nein! No one!"

"Mr. Beilschmidt. Open the door" said a very monotonous voice.

Then the door exploded.

* * *

_"Coming up to Broadcasting depth."_

_"You have one hour, get in, get the two of them, get out. Clear?"_

_"Crystal."_

_"Then Good luck and be careful. We don't want...that to happen ever again."_

_"...Yes."_

_"That? What that?"_

_"Quiet America"_

_"But..."_

_"Catching signal, 3, 2, 1."_

* * *

_They were so very screwed_ was all that ran through Canada's mind as the door came down and the agent behind could be seen.

Really, really screwed.

France was the first to get over his surprise and in those few seconds, he darted over to the kitchen and grabbed Gilbert's extensive knife collection and threw them with surprising skill at the intruders. Prussia at the same time drew one of the guns he kept hidden all over the house (this one in particular was behind a picture frame) and unloaded the entire clip at the advancing men.

To all of their surprise, the suited men _just dodged them._

Canada quickly grabbed the nearby fire extinguisher and threw it at them before grabbing another gun (this one in the potted plant) and shot it, the pressurized canister and foam spraying everywhere and then began to drag the two others by the collar to the fire escape.

Jumping over the railing and dropping the two stories to the ground, they hit the ground running, knowing their pursuers would not be far behind. These were foes they could not easily match, not in their territory.

Canada felt his feet had wings as he flew past Edelstein's Music Store, Eduard's Computers and Steve n' Jackson's pet store before darting into the Subway station.

It was late in the evening so it wasn't busy be despaired as there was then no crowd to disappear into, to lose their pursuers.

However, he changed his mind when the few late night commuters dropped what they were carrying and morphed into more men with tuxes and glasses.

Back peddling, he tried to go back up the stairs like France had but he and Gilbert were cut off so instead, grabbing the Prussian's hand, he darted in front of the stopping train and into the tunnel. The metro then sealed his escape so that he and Gilbert gained a few precious seconds.

* * *

Thud. Thudthud. Thud. As he ran France's heartbeat rang in his ears while each breath seemed to echo and each step an eternity.

He dared not look behind himself, afraid of what he might see.

After the near ambush in the subway, he had immediately set about distancing himself, weaving in and through back alleys, hopping fences and climbing onto the roofs and running for a distance until he had to go back down.

Hopefully all the effort was worth it and he had lost his pursuers as he had certainly lost himself.

Making another right, he found himself at a dead end.

Merde.

Quickly turning,he made to retrace his steps somewhat to go left but it was too late. When he heard raised voices and thundering steps, he knew he did not have the luxury of time.

Fils d'putain!

Well...this world was not real right? That meant these were not his real muscles propelling him forward so he was not bound by human limitations just as there wasn't things like gravity. Perhaps he could bend some of those eternally standing rules.

Taking a deep breath, he then began to run full tilt towards the wall then took a few steps up it.

 _Nope. That wasn't going to work._ He thought as halfway up, his feet lost contact with the brick.

As he began to plummet back to Earth, a hand shot out of a window and pulled him in. Instantly he began to struggle, fearing that he had been captured but stilled when he heard "Basta! Sono un amico!" He knew that voice, Veneziano. There was a pause, then "Bene! Very good. The Agents are gone for now."

"Agents?"

"Them. The ones chasing you, hunting you down as though they are white blood cells after an infection. Merciless, efficient and fast. You better get going or they'll find you soon."

"How do you know all this?"

"Doesn't matter, go. Quickly. Go somewhere else, keep quiet, keep your head down, lips sealed and try to disappear. If you do that, you may escape their notice." The Italian pushed him to the apartment door. "Follow me. This building connects to another complex at the top, go through there and see if you can't get a few minutes head start."

Together they headed up to the roof, ears perked for the sounds of pursuit. They had nearly made it up the remaining 13 floors when they heard one of the doors a few floors down slam open followed by rushed footsteps.

"To the top, да?"

* * *

The two froze, they knew that childish tone. Before they could even turn around, they were barrelled into, followed by a chorus of groans.

"Ugh." "Bollocks." "Owww." "Oof." "Crikey." (couldn't resist)

"You look so silly" said Russia as he loomed over them being the only one not to end up in the impromptu dog pile.

"...Angleterre!" France cried, as he got up, helping up then crushing in a bear hug his old frenemy.

"Git! Bugger off!"" The Englishman automatically responded before his eyes widened and he whispered "You remembered?"

"Bien sur Monsieur fuzzybrows~"

Before the two could get in a fight (of sorts, they were - though neither would ever admit it- just bickering for old times sake.) Feliciano of all people stepped in.

"Silenzio!" In the deafening silence that followed, the Italian continued "If you are to escape the Agents and the infernal Matrix you need to run!"

As if to accent his words, the door below thudded open again, its' hinges groaning as they protested the abuse.

Without a second word, all of them turned and made a break for the rooftop.

As Russia and France jammed the door behind them, Steven asked "What now?"

Then, as though summoned by the Australian man's words, a helicopter rose up between the buildings. In the glass, a familiar grinning American sat behind the controls could be seen as the machine smoothly rose above the rooftops, a rope dangling below it.

"Everyone up!" England bellowed. Steven and his brother, Jackson were the first to begin to shimmy up the rope while Feliciano began his flat out refusal to do so to all of those in hearing distance. Before either of the Southern siblings or any real conversation could be had between a stubborn Englishman and an equally headstrong Italian, the door burst open, revealing three Agents.

Russia shoved Feli at the rope and said "Climb." as he took his signature pipe out and began to spin it around, wicked look in his eyes.

Without another word of protest, the Italian began to scale the rope, followed quickly by France and England. As soon as everyone else was safely up, America began to veer away slightly as Russia broke away from his opponents (looking surprisingly well off having taken on three Agents on his own) and grabbed hold of the rope as the machine took off for the safety of the skies.

There was silence in the cab before France turned to Feli and shouted (so as to be heard)

"You remember, don't you. Northern Italy."

Veneziano said nothing but squirmed a little, showing he was uncomfortable.

"This is brilliant! We're freeing four of us this time!" England let loose a rare smile.

The brilliance of which was diminished as North Italy burst into tears and sobbed "Mai! Mai! Mai! Not without him! It's bad! I cannot leave yet!"

The others in the cab were stunned (well, except Russia who had just finally managed to climb up and didn't really care at this point), Italy refusing to leave danger? Unheard of.

"I promised. Una prometto! I help Germany and he help me! I will not leave until he is leaving with me!"

Well that was unexpected. Zealand looked bemused with one eyebrow raised, Australia was nodding his understanding, France was still in shock and England just looked amused and exasperated at the same time. (Russia wasn't paying attention and was cleaning his pipe while chanting Коль Коль Коль for those wondering.)

Taking out a cell phone, England dialled a number and simply said to the person on the other end. "We've hit a small snag, a good snag, but a snag nonetheless. I need you to talk to him." Wincing at the answer, England waited for the verbal barrage to end then said "No, no. Everything should still go to plan, it's just...here."

Startled, North Italy tentatively took the phone shoved in his face with trembling fingers. Holding it up to his ear, he whispered.

"Hello?"

"Hallo. Who is this?" That exasperated voice! (Though the voice was higher then it should have been)

"Germania..." Whispered out the Italian

"Italien? Bist du das? Italien!"

The Italian's face hardened and said with new resolve "Yes Deutschland, it's me. I'll see you soon, alright?", then he hung up.

"Soooooo. What's the plan?"

* * *

They had made a good run of things but they were now trapped. Stuck at the top of one of the towers of the Brooklyn Bridge.

As car doors below could be heard slamming as sirens announced the cops closing the bridge off for traffic, Canada knew they could now longer run. While he contemplated their likely fate, an absurd thought occurred to Canada.

A completely insane, impossible thought.

Like this world is not real had been.

In order to get out of the Matrix, an invisible prison for the mind, they had to create an error, just for a second, which disrupts the feed. Like changing one zero to a one in computer code, the system then will then crash and reboot, allowing them to wake up. This much Canada knew as fact (or as close to it as he could get without actually seeing any blueprints) but it was so much more complex then all that.

At least, for humans it must be like that. However, they were countries, throughout their history they had been subject to being mutilated, shot, stabbed, tortured, burnt, beheaded, drowned, blown up and all sorts of other nasty things. Always, they rose up again, their governments, children, land and ideology sustaining them, keeping them alive. Considering that they still continued to exist, this must still be true.

_Free your mind_

That was what it came down to, that simple little thought.

Wouldn't them dying be enough to cause an error?

If that was the case, then perhaps there was a way out after all...

Turning he explained his plan to Prussia as the barricaded door began to rattle in it's frame ominously.

To his surprise, when he finished, the albino's face was without his usual devious smirk and in it's place was a sad smile. He then gently pushed the Canadian closer to the edge and whispered "You go without me Canada, I'll hold them off."

"WHAT! No! Not without you!"

Prussia just shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up into the night sky.

"Listen kid, I've already been out _there_ once. When the One first walked and freed the first enslaved minds, Germany, Russia, England and I were also liberated. Boy were they surprised when they found out what we really were. Over the decades we helped establish Zion and ran small missions, but when we returned to try and get the others...they were waiting for us. I got the other three out but I...I was captured. This happened twenty-two years ago Canada. The others... might've waited for me, might've tried to find me, free me but as soon as they had to leave broadcasting range... the link between my mind and the rest of me was broken, th-the _pain_ still echoes in my mind as I think about it. Canada, I don't think that my body is waiting for me. I don't think I will be able to follow."

The lock of the door now began to groan as it began to give way. They had but seconds.

"Why would I abandon you? To torture and death? I will not leave someone I care about to such a fate! At least..." Canada choked up, tears in his eyes "At least if you jump with me, your final moments will be with a friend, not with gunfire or needles!"

The door fell to the ground with a defeated thud as agents then began to swarm out, guns at the ready.

"Mr. Beilschmidt..."

Canada grabbed Prussia's wrist and pulled him over the side, falling towards the moonlit waters below. In free-fall, the pair hugged each other and as Indigo eyes met Blood red, the deadly waters rose up and swallowed them.

Sinking down, Canada found himself simultaneously shoot up through the holding tank. Not even taking in where he was, his hands groped around blindly while his eyes searched for the ones they had last seen.

But Prussia was nowhere to be found and silent tears soon streamed down the Canadian's cheeks.

* * *

Clawing his way out of the pink goo, France emerged, gasping in the free air for the first time in a very long time.

Looking around the fields, he shuddered, they were even more horrid then he remembered. There were hundreds upon hundreds of towers stretching out into the distance, the top of which disappeared into thick cloud so the end could not even be seen. Each were dotted with many glowing pink lights which might've been beautiful in a strange way had he not known that each of those millions of dots housed a person.

Though even more sinister to him was the tower which held his own prison, According to Russia, from what they had been able to determine, this tower was reserved solely for them. Every nation, micronation, province or state that continued to exist after The War, was housed here.

He shivered, how far they had fallen.

As he closely examined those around him he spotted Estonia there, then to the left was Scotland, Spain was a few over and beside him was Romano. Oh! There was Veneziano two rows above him, he spotted the Italian as he jerked upright.

...Mon Dieu! Veneziano is hairless!

.

..

...

HE was hairless! His beautiful hair! Les bâtards!

Taking a deep breath, France then mentally slapped himself. He could freak out over that later, right now he needed to worry about the field robot flying towards him. A jolt of fear ran through him as it got closer and he realized just how weak he had become.

This was not going to work after all...Where was?

An explosion tore through the air.

Ah. There they are. In seconds the machine had changed direction and joined the swarm of others. As more explosions rang in the air, more and more machines could be seen streaming over to the source.

All according to plan. France thought smugly, he should have never doubted.

Now he needed to follow through with his end. Moving as best as his atrophied muscles would allow, he wriggled over the side and ended up hanging half in-half out of the tank as another familiar face caught his eye.

The tank below him housed Canada. He hoped the boy was alright and that he and Prussia would also find a way out. America, Russia and England said they would watch for them (though they had all stared in shock when he had mentioned the Prussian).

Just as he was about to finish the arduous task of heaving himself completely out of the tank, he nearly fell (hanging on by on his feet, completely upside down) when to his surprise and great delight, the Canadian jerked awake. Feeling himself begin to slip, he managed to flip himself into the tank below.

After he managed to surface and right himself, he turned and held out his hand to the Canadian (was he crying?) and said "Viens mon cher, la _Muspilli_ nous attendons. We must 'urry."

As he said that Australia and North Italy fell past from above and he could see New Zealand a row below about to do the same. They couldn't afford to wait, the machines would not be distracted for long. Pulling his distraught former colony behind him, they fell.

* * *

The air whooshed past them for what felt like an eternity and the blanket of fog (or was it cloud? Just how high did these things go?) seemed impenetrable before rising up from the blanket of mist rose a small ship which caught them.

As they were pulled on board the small vessel, Canada heard high voices muttering.

"Are you absolutely positive that the machines cannot sense the vessel America?"

"Positive." Canada managed to crack his eyes open ever so slightly to see his brother, in miniature, waving his arms about as if to emphasize his point to an exhausted looking Sealand. Oh. On second thought, an exhausted looking _England._ Hopefully the Brit never found THAT out...and he could consider it payback anyway for all the times he was called America. "Tony lent it to me saying it ran on something that doesn't produce any heat signature or electricity for them to sense."

As the two talked, a tiny Russia and Germany came in and began to move them onto gurneys while England left to go stealthily pilot them out of the death zone.

"Also, if they could, they would already be on us. This was a surprisingly good plan Amerika."

Shoot, he needed to tell Germany about Prussia.

But his voice betrayed him, not letting any sound out, not even a whisper.

As he felt himself gently lifted and placed on the stretcher, he swallowed a bit, trying to wet his throat.

America noticed this and leaned over him, realized he was still awake then positively beamed at the Canadian. Then he said "Good to see you again bro! I knew you couldn't live long without the sexy me!" That last bit, sounded far to bizarre to be coming from a child's body and Canada resisted rolling his eyes. How could he have ever forgotten the other was beyond him.

Before he could try again, exhaustion overwhelmed him and he passed out into blackness.

* * *

Hmm, this was certainly interesting. Taking a deep breath, he again tried to move his limbs.

AH! A twitch.

Deciding to try again in a few moments, he decided instead to attempt to open his eyes, but that was easier said than done. It felt like his eyes were covered in glue. Nevertheless he persisted until he was able to open them a fraction.

Well, he had no idea where he was. He appeared to be lying in a warmly lit cave but that was all as he couldn't move his head yet.

Bored, his eyes then began to focus is on the parts of the wall he could see. He muttered in surprise as he saw carved therein:

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

_How charged with punishments the scroll._

_I am the master of my fate:_

_I am the captain of my soul._

Wherever he was, his host was a fan William E. Henley, so they shouldn't be machines at the least.

He relaxed at that and discovered he could move a bit more, so he tried to sit up. That didn't entirely work but he managed at least to get up on his elbows.

Closing his eyes with exhaustion, _why was this so hard?_ , he was startled by a great crash as what sounded like a... wash bin perhaps, hit the ground followed by a baritone voice shouted "DOCTOR! He's awake!"

"What?"

There was a rush of footsteps then there were more exclamations of surprise, this time in a woman's alto voice before he felt himself being overwhelmed by questions and being poked and prodded.

He knew he was awesome, but what the hell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem verse at the end is called Invictus by William E. Henley(which is actually a very good movie now as well, take a look)
> 
>  **Translations**  
>  Premièrement, je sais que tu n'as jamais eu l'occasion d'apprendre le français (moi non plus) et quand même tu peux comprendre que je dis. Vrai? (Fr- First off, I know that you never had the opportunity to learn french (me neither)and yet you can understand what I'm saying. Yes?)  
> Merde (Fr- shit)  
> Fils d'putain (Fr- Literal: Son of a whore. Can be used as we would Shit or Fuck)  
> Basta! Sono un amico!(It- Enough! I am a friend)  
> Bene(It- Good)  
> Silenzio(It- Quiet)  
> Mai(It- No/Never)  
> Una prometto! (It- a promise)  
> Italien? Sind Sie das? Italien!(Ger- Italy? Is that you? Italy!)  
> Muspilli (Old German- is one of the Nine Worlds found also in Norse mythology, the realm of fire. Is also the name of one of two surviving Old German epic poetry which talks about the end of the world.)  
> Viens mon cher, la Muspilli nous attendons. (Fr- Come my dear, the Muspilli (^) awaits)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hetalia or the Matrix

"This is the Muspilli on approach, requesting access through Gate Five."

_"Muspilli, this is Zion main control, please stand by"_

"Roger that"

_"Weapons are standing down, you are now clear to go through Gate Five, please proceed to Dock six. Welcome back"_

* * *

The atmosphere on the ship was a gloomy one. No one really wanted to talk about what had happened a week ago. While they had regained another five of their kind, they had also lost another one of theirs and a dark mood hung all of them for it.

Canada especially just sat in his assigned bunk all day, staring at nothing. Despite Germany's reassurances, he felt guilty for his friend's death.

_"Why would I abandon you? To torture and death? I will not leave someone I care about to such a fate! At least...at least if you jump with me, your final moments will be with a friend, not with gunfire or needles!"_

How could he have said that? Better alive then nothing. If he hadn't made him jump then they could always find him again. However, this time he wasn't taken by machines or by agents, no he was taken by something much more permanent. Death. Enduring, final and irrevocable Death had him now.

And it was all his fault.

France frequently joined him in his sorrow, sitting with him and also feeling guilt over his friend's passing. The three of them had been together in their decision to get out, if maybe he had been a little faster and stayed with them in the Métro...Perhaps his presence would've changed the outcome. Perhaps not, but what could they have done differently so that the albino would have been with them?

* * *

A few minutes later and they felt the ship shift beneath them as it landed. So they left the unanswerable questions behind and instead picked up their bags and headed over to the cargo bay doors. On their way they passed Russia as he spoke to Australia and New Zealand as he had been training them in the Construct and from what he overheard, he was giving them instructions on how to practice. Nodding in way of greeting at Germany, North Italy, America and England, they then opened the doors and stepped out onto landing pad.

Germany excused himself when he saw a Morpheus and Neo walking up a gangway near the stern with North Italy (who could not be separated from the German these day) trailing behind.

The other four just sat down on their bags as they waited for the other three to come out.

"I want to speak to the captain of this ship!" An enraged voice shouted from the front of the ship.

Turning they could see a taller man come round the stern, spoiling for a fight while a crew member ran behind, clearly trying to calm him down.

"Excuse me." England said as the man swept past them.

Ignoring them, he went up the gangway and shouted into the Muspilli. "I WANT to SPEAK to the so-called CAPTAIN of this SHIP! Where is the dumb fuck?"

England raised his voice "Excuse me!"

Turning around the man sneered. "Oh, I didn't realize they allowed _infants_ into the docking area. Hey there little fella, do you know where I could find the _captain_ , you know, the _captain_ , the one who flies the pretty ship? "

You could see the vein above England's eye twitch as he struggled to keep his temper. They were hardly infants, looking to be about 9 or 10 and England loathed it when people talked down to him. Instead of shouting, he just turned his head to the said and said "Weawwy Mister? A pwetty ship? Dos it go zoom?" Glaring, he then said. "Honestly? Do you think I'm two or something? Now in answer to your earlier question, _I'm_ the captain."

The man visibly shook as he tried to keep his temper in check, his crew mate trembling behind him. "You're a dumb little shit. A 7 year old, Captain? Pull the other one why don't you? It takes years of hard work and effort to become a Captain, brat."

"Why don't you calm down and let us talk over this rationally?" America said before England could say anything.

Instead of calming the man down as America had hoped, his rebuke seemed to make things worse. "Calm down? CALM DOWN! I don't need to be told be a child how I should or should not act..."

Before he could continue making an ass of himself, England fished his Captain's ID out of his bag and shoved it in the man's face.

The man took it stared at it, grabbed it, looked at England, back at the Id, then back at England, held it up to the light, tried bending it before in his frustration on realizing it's validity threw it over the shoulder.

It was upon seeing the I-told-you-so look on England's face then that his little self control snapped and he lunged for the Englishman. Before anyone could react, he had him up against the wall of Muspilli by his throat and gun at his head. "You dumb brat."

America dashed over and punched him as hard as he could. "Let him go!" He roared and in his surprise, the man dropped him and America shoved him to the side.

Then he stood in front of the fallen Brit, arms spread protectively and shouted "You. Will. NOT. _EVER._ Touch. HIM. _AGAIN!_ " As the words tore through the air, it seemed as if thousands of people shouted with him.

Not seeming to realize the danger he was in, the man darted forward once more, but was surprised when suddenly from thin air appeared a 22 year old man with dark blue eyes, and stubborn cowlick, eyes set with grim determination and body language promising violence.

He froze for but an instant but that was all it took for him to realize the danger he had put himself in.

In addition to the bristling American, at both sides stood two blonds with shoulder length hair, one with violet eyes, the other with blue who had pistols trained on him, at that range, they would not miss.

"Enough!" cried a new voice and all of them looking to the side could see Germany, North Italy, Morpheus and Neo running across the ground to them.

"Just what is going on here?" Demanded Morpheus, looking perturbed by the disruption and glaring at them all.

The argumentative captain fidgeted under the intense stare. "Well, you see, they...they just, I mean."

"Get on with it, what?"

"Well, they took my parking spot! We had to walk from Dock twenty-eight!"

You could have heard a dime drop as everyone stared at the man incredulously.

"...What?"

America, bristling said "Let me get this straight. You came over here hooting and hollerin' over a parking space? They just assign the empty ones to whoever comes first, there's no set spots! It's no big deal, we've been in Dock Forty before. Dumb ass!"

As they then began to argue, England approached his defender who still hadn't moved.

"Thank you America." When the other didn't respond, he slowly snaked a hand over to grab his arm... "America? You alright?"

Only his hand went right through the other.

"Ehh!" "Agh!"

At the Brit's surprised shriek, the others all turned around just in time to see a England fall _through_ America's body just as America snapped out of it and began to freak out as England went through him. All nations present (Australia and New Zealand had just come out of the hatch) just stared in shock, no one had ever seen anything like this before.

Hearing shouts of terror that were not caused by him, Russia looked out one of the gun turrets (What? Old habits die hard!) and seeing the problem, said bemusedly. "Always so power-hungry, neh Америки? Always pushing too hard. Too quickly."

"RUSKI!" Shouted America desperately as he tried to run his fingers through his hair, nervous, before he realized he couldn't as his hand also went through him. "WHAT DID I DO!"

Raising an eyebrow, Russia's internal struggle was palpable. Watch his old frenemy squirm or help him out as an ally. Oh decisions, decisions. Ah, very well then. "Silly Америки, our shape and size depends on what condition our land, flora, fauna and people are in, yes? Well, we can push past this at times if circumstances demand it. You've just pushed your present form to the point where to maintain the shape you wish, you can no longer be solid~"

"We can do that?" England asked, surprised. The others just nodded in agreement.

"That is right, it fell out of disuse around Roman Empire's fall, of course you would not know. Ah to be young again~" With that, he leaned forward out of the turret and fell, but as he did so, his clothes and skin seemed to meld together until he soared upwards, supported by his wings as a Red Kite.

He flew around for but a moment before he hit the ground growing into his old self. "See da? Very simple." He then shrunk back down to his now-normal height with his amused grin still intact, though when he swayed, his grin faded a little. "Just, a little energy consuming."

"W-What the hell are you freaks?"

"That's a li'l harsh don't you think mate?" Said Australia rolling his eyes.

England just gave a wicked grin. "We're what's left of the old world and are more powerful then you could ever imagine. Now kindly go piss off, I'm in no mood to deal with royal gits like you today."

With that he turned to Russia. "So how exactly does he undo this?

It took a little of explaining (after all America refused to believe in magic) and some translating of terms into ridiculous sounding science-y ones before they were able to coax America through the transformation process and down to his normal self.

As they turned back to their bags they were pleased to see that the moron was gone (though so was Morpheus curiously) and with Russia carrying America piggy-back  as he was too tired by the change  they began to make their way up to their rooms.

However in the elevator Neo suggested that they instead get off on the fifth floor, that there was something they should see. So despite their misgivings at being denied their beds for a little longer, they followed him out and into the hallways.

* * *

Neo led them through a maze of corridors, people parting reverently for him, making Canada, France, Italy, Australia and Zealand very nervous.

After all, though on the way over they had been briefed about what was going on in Zion (the World's only remaining non-robot city at the Earth's core) and about the Prophesied end of the War at the hands of the One (Neo), it was unnerving to see one human with so much influence. Though the unnerving part was probably due more to the fact that throughout their histories very few people like him hadn't ended up becoming crazed dictators or something along those lines.

Though, he didn't seem to be interested in the power or influence the title bestowed upon him gave to him. Instead he did his best to give a few kind words to the ones that approached him, never completely stopping but yet still seeing to everyone as he continued leading them. Eventually they got to an area where the crowds dwindled and they could at last walk easily.

England spoke up. "So Neo, where are you taking us?"

"You'll see."

"Alright then. So where did Morpheus go?"

"To report that captain, his behaviour was not appropriate considering the status he has been granted."

"I see..."

And a somewhat uncomfortable silence again enveloped them.

At last they stopped in front of a large steel door and Neo put a finger to his lips as he opened it. "From here on out you must be quiet or we'll all get kicked out."

Not giving them a moment to gather their thoughts, he moved on. They passed through the door, closing it gently behind them, went through a corridor of simpler doors before they arrived to the room 1701.

Neo knocked gently and a soft female voice answered, "Come in."

The man then just gestured for them to enter as he sat on one of the benches located outside. Shrugging, Germany just stepped into the room wanting to get whatever it was over with so he could get to the comfort of his own bed. Only to stop in his tracks upon seeing the doctor and the bed.

At first sheer fury passed through him. Who had given them permission to move his brother out of the hospital area? He wasn't dead and he had certainly not given the okay so there was no... Then just as swiftly as it came the anger was gone as a pair of tired red eyes opened and Prussia managed to barely whisper (like you do when you're waking up) "Hey Westen."

The touching moment was somewhat ruined by America whisper-shouting "Germany! Keep walking man, you're blocking the door." and by Germany then passing out into said American who just barely managed to catch him.

* * *

As each person entered the room, their reactions to Prussia's survival were all fairly different. North Italy first freaked out over Germany fainting and then when he saw it was Prussia, he began to hyperventilate (before glomping him as Italy had the tendency to do to people). France just began to rant about he knew how no so small a thing as the separation of mind and body could keep his ami down. America just beamed while Canada ran over to give him a (toned down version) hug of doom (Copyright of the North American brothers). He then yanked America into joining the hug. Zealand and Australia came over and offered their congratulations on surviving in addition to some bro-fisting over Canada, America and Italy. Russia, Prussia and him still not being quite on what you could call amicable terms (though they were likely as close as they'd ever be), just exchanged nods.

All in all what one would imagine in a reunion such as this.

However, one look at England and that image would be shattered.

The English gentleman had his pirate face on.

You know, the one that said _I'm going to board your ship, take what I want, slaughter your crew just because I can. Then set it on fire and watch it sink while basking in the orange glow and having some rum._

The face that any that had faced him on the ocean knew and would make them shiver in fear. It meant that whatever he was thinking was at the very least devious or just downright evil.

It was America who first noticed him smirking, leaning against the door frame.

"Ummmm, limey? What's with the look?"

"Firstly, I'm England you divvy idiot, call me anything else and you'll regret it. Secondly..." he gestured to Prussia, his grin widening if that was even possible. "do you know what this means?"

"Prussia is alive and we should have a party?"

"No! Well yes, but look at the big picture!"

"I think that is the big picture for me Engländer."

"Seriously! Nobody else sees the implications of this? Prussia sound in body and in mind (or as much as he ever was) despite the fact the ties were broken? He remade the links and came back to his body! Don't you see what this means?"

Germany nodded, growing a sinister grin of his own while everyone else still looked confused.

"Isn't it obvious? We can go grab everyone else all at once from the Matrix, and well, kill them I guess, _which would_ ..."

America breathed out, understanding. "We could get everyone out all at once..."

"Exactly. Oh, and Prussia, it is good to see you alive again as well."

"Uuh, thank you?"

* * *

After their visit to Prussia (who would be discharged the next day), everybody felt a high energy thrumming in the air, they were nearly at their goal. Having everyone free was no longer an impossible dream but a distinct possibility.

However, the end of the war could also be seen, one way or another. They had just heard the news, thousands machines were tunnelling towards the hallowed halls of Zion, an army sent to destroy the last free nation of men.

The end was coming, it was almost here.

"Zion hear me! It is true what many of you have heard. The machines have gathered an army and as I speak that army is drawing nearer to our home. Believe me when I say we have a difficult time ahead of us but if we are to be prepared for it we must first shed our fear of it!"

Morpheus shouted into the great gathering hall, an enormous cavern. "I stand hear before you now truly unafraid! Why? Because I believe something you do not? No! I stand here without fear because I remember. I remember that I am hear not because of the path that lay before me.. but because of the path that lies behind me!"

The nations stood to the side, feeling the fear, the hope and the anger of their citizens. It was a heady feeling, being influenced by their own emotions and that of hundreds of others all at once. They had nearly forgotten how it felt.

"I remember that for one hundred years we have fought these machines! I remember that for one-hundred years they have sent their armies to destroy us and after a century of war I remember that which matters most! We are still here! Tonight let us send a message to that army! Let us shake this cave! Tonight let us tremble these walls of earth, steel and stone! Let us be heard from red core to black sky! Tonight let us make them remember this is Zion and we are not afraid!

"WE ARE STILL HERE!" They all roared back, hearts swelling with pride and determination.

* * *

The rest of the night passed as a blur to them, their minds in haze, swamped by the high emotions ranging around them.

Alfred could vaguely remember that night, them dancing along with the humans. Germany and Veneziano danced close together, as if there were any space between them an enemy could come tear them apart. Australia and New Zealand had entered into the more mosh pit area and had soon been the centre of it all. Russia had been conscripted by a group of teens who were throwing each other as high into the air as possible and despite his smaller size, he was by no means a weakling and was soon throwing them high up. France was in the centre of a group of females, showing them how to tango while Canada had grabbed some spare drums and was to the side, losing himself in the music and the beat.

But above all, he could remember England, his slimmer frame under his hands as they danced together. Strong, implacable England reminding his muscles of steps his memory had long since forgotten. England pressing their bodies closer together as they lost themselves further to the music and the restless atmosphere.

He remembered them going back up to the nations's rooms, where England slowly reacquainted him with both of their topography. It was then, his guard down due to his citizen's influence and head spinning from the dancing and emotions earlier that America became awash with memory.

A caress on the old location of Boston and he could remember a dark moonlit night, throwing tea into dark waters.

A light kiss on the Great Plains and he relived his cowboy days and the exploration of the West.

A tug on Alaska and he could see a time before Europeans, him and Matthew running amok in the snows in untamed wilderness.

A brush on old scars and he felt unimaginable pain as he relived the sensations that came with a civil war, with the burning of a capital and of plans gone horribly wrong.

A nip on his veins, his life's blood, and he could feel his peoples pride, their joy in their successes, the strength that kept them going.

As he came down from his high, he could feel the land breathe with him, from his head to his toes. He could feel the surf hitting his shores, the lonely wind scream across the flat Earth and proud mountains rise every higher. He could feel the creatures resilient enough to adapt and survive on his land, he felt the deep roots of the trees and the hope for new life in seeds, waiting for their chance. He thrummed with potential promise, rebirth, of life, heartache and toil.

And even as all these doors mental opened to him, he felt his oldest friend, his enemy, his strong knight, enduring old man, his lover, move with him. He could feel and sense England's land and history just as much as his own and the tie binding them together.

His hand reached up to brush a cheek... part of the West Midlands he corrected himself and hoarsely said. "England. I- I remember."

Ironically enough, that was the last thing he remembered from that night as emotion and sensation took them both over.

* * *

"A message came in from the Oracle today, Neo and the others have left to go answer her call."

Germany said as he walked into the room, throwing the notice onto the table. "We're going to have to make our move soon as well. The machines are getting closer and soon we will not be able to leave."

"...This is too soon." Whispered out Canada before saying more loudly. "We've only been here two days, we need to plan something like this!"

America gave his signature hero-grin (or about-to-cause-trouble-for-everyone-else grin) and remarked. "Well...all our plans seem to go to hell in a hand-basket anyway, why not just improvise?"

"...Did America just make sense?" Prussia asked.

"No, he didn't. He's just as much of an idiot as you are so you can understand one another." Deadpanned England ignoring the protesting shouts.

"How's this for a plan then." Said Australia. "We leave here tonight. Use the Super-stealth ship thing go up to surface, free everyone, bring them back to Zion before going back to broadcasting depth to go into the Matrix to 'kill' them?"

"Kill?" Said Veneziano surprised by the word choice.

"Revive them sound better?" France quietly asked to the Italian.

"Sounds like a plan." Agreed New Zealand.

"Let's go then." said Russia. "It is much too boring around here."

* * *

It had been hours since they had left Zion and nearly everyone on the ship had been dancing on the edge of having a lethal heart attack. There were Sentinels everywhere, flying robots designed with one single purpose  to rip and destroy any ship or non-machine.

The only thing protecting them was the fact that none could see the alien designed ship.

However, that did not stop the panic attacks as the ship rounded the corner into a veritable nest of the things and the worst thing was the closer they got to the surface, the more there were. Unnerving to say the least.

At last they pulled into a tunnel where they felt the temperature visibly drop and they knew they were close. Going to the end, it opened up into a great chasm which they then went up, which rose into the unimaginable fields. There were millions of posts, standing tall like trees and hung upon them were hundreds of pink leaves, pods which held a little imprisoned body and mind. America sucked in a deep breath and he heard the others do the same. It was only the second time he had come out this way and there was still a terror that hit him upon seeing those and the enormous machines that would 'harvest' them. Taking them to be put into the Matrix. Stretching into the beyond behind this were enormous skyscraper type buildings, buildings that housed millions of adult humans and their fellows.

It was there that they needed to go.

Ever so carefully, they manoeuvred the craft to fly over the harvesting machines and past the buildings, to the one that had once housed them.

At the bottom, they could see Poland, Chile, India, Spain, Cameroon, Japan and others, just there, waiting. It was now time.

England's eyes shone with pride. At last they could complete his goal, the one he had held for nearly 1000 years, at last they could all be free.

Gingerly, America moved the craft close enough that they were nearly grazing India's pod and then they opened the landing doors, all the others scurrying out. England gingerly flicked the needle he held before reaching down and poking it into Japan.

"I've come to get you out my friend." He whispered as the chemical took hold and the cables released the prone Japanese man. All along the row the same thing happened and soon each of them carried one of the other nations back onto the ship.

Making sure the row was clear they moved up to the next, then the next, then the next. It was when they were clearing the 26th that New Zealand noticed something and said to Italy.

"Not that I'm complaining but why haven't the machines come after us? They should by now know what we are doing."

Veneziano shrugged while Canada (who had overheard), whispered. "It is because they are too busy with Neo and Trinity."

"WHAT!" Whisper-shouted England.

"They have come above the surface. They came to confront the Source." Canada said mournfully as he pointed and just between the gaps they could see The Logos fly upwards into the electrical storm and the burnt sky with thousands of Sentinels flying.

"We'd best hurry then." Said Australia grimly and they began to move all the faster, knowing that as soon as the machines were done with The Logos, all the Sentinels mustered would be coming to them.

Seeing the clouds of robots, Russia came to a decision. "We won't have another opportunity to get up to depth for a while I don't think. Canada, Italy and myself should go into the Matrix and begin to get them out. There are only a few rows left but I have a very bad feeling."

Reluctantly, the others nodded and continued to move the nations into the rooms while Canada, Italy and Russia went into the chairs. America went and connected Canada and Italy but before he did so to Russia he said. "Are you sure you want to do this? There won't be an operator to watch over you or help."

"Da Amerika, this needs to be done and if necessary, we can just die as well and come back. No problem there."

America sighed, "Alright commie. Good luck." and connected him in before rushing back to his post of flying the ship.

* * *

Russia opened his eyes in the darkened room and saw Veneziano and Canada staring back at him in long black coats, pants and sunglasses. Beside them was a hat rack, couch and a table upon which was a virtual armada of weapons.

As they began to arm up, North Italy asked curiously while handling a sawed off shotgun "Why did you pick Canada and me to come with you? We wouldn't typically be someone's first choice."

Russia just gave an evil smile. "You seemed like you would be the right fit with the right... push."

Canada made a quizzical noise as he reassembled an AK-47.

"You both have the potential to snap. North Italy, you are looked on as being a coward but I know the reason you do not like to fight is that you fear to kill anyone. You fear making someone else suffer the same heartbreak Holy Roman Empire put you through." He turned to Canada next, smirking. "Canada, I play hockey against you, I know that hiding under your pacifist exterior is a fighter. I also know just how dangerous you can get when someone mistakes you for America. Here? Not a problem, kill those that have bullied you, forgot you, abused you. Show them your strength. Fire without hesitating, _destroy them._ "

Canada chuckled, a dark light entering his eyes. "Well if you put it that way..."

North Italy grabbed a fedora from the rack and gave a disturbed smile of his own. "Sounds...fun."

* * *

America stood up from the top of the tower, (Zealand had taken over as pilot) where he was about to pick up Belarus. "I sense a great disturbance in the force."

"Yeah, yeah." Muttered England. "Let's get this over..." He stopped mid-sentence and stared, eyes wide at the pod to the far left.

America, following his eyes, realized with a jolt who he was staring at. That was very weird, all the other nations had disappeared when the ocean had swallowed up their land so... how was Sealand still alive? The barge had collapsed...

England let out a relieved laugh. "He must still have citizens from when he was selling barons titles and what-have-you, the brat." But despite his harsh words, the relief was obvious in his words.

"England, he's the last one. So why don't you get him and I'll meet you back onboard."

His words seemed to shake the Brit out of his stupor and so he hoped across the pods to his littlest brother's prison as America jumped back onto the ship with Belarus and handed her to Australia. Turning to help England with toddler-sized Sealand, he watched as time seemed to slow around him. Sealand jerked upright with a scream and began to blindly fight England as he gave him to Germany when one well placed fist knocked the Brit backwards and out the bay doors...

America didn't even register his body moving before he was leaping out too, into thin air and diving after the free-falling Englishman.

Catching up to the man who was falling with a silent scream, America reached out and grabbed him, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"It's okay limey. I gotcha now."

He then felt his body seem to melt before stretching and strengthening into something else. Brit in his claws, the giant golden eagle began to fly upwards with his precious burden.

* * *

Russia, North Italy and Canada looked like something out of the nations worst nightmares. They were covered in blood splatter as was their weapons.

It seemed that despite the fact they had guns, the trio were still rather fond of older weapons  Italy's stiletto was dripping in blood, Russia had his pipe (though he was being merciful, it was a one blow, one kill type deal) and Matthew was favouring two hunting knives.

"So what's the count now? I believe I am winning little Canada and Italy with 48."

"Non." Said Canada, smiling sweetly. "I believe I am one ahead of both of you with 49."

Italy giggled. "Bene! You two do such good work! But I believe I am still the victor with 55 kills."

No one's maniacal grin faltered but the tension between them was palpable.

"Little Sealand only counts as half." Grumbled Russia.

"Well then your kills of Wy and Seborga only counts as one." North Italy countered.

"OH!" Said Canada, suddenly gleeful. "It's the law building! If I remember right quite a number of nations work here."

The other two immediately turned their attention away from the budding argument between them and began making a beeline for the law firm.

"Shall we settle this in the field?"

"But of course."

Gun shot alerted them to the fact that Canada had kicked down the door and had already gone in and was one upping them.

"NOT FAIR" They chorused and ran inside, guns blazing.

* * *

In the medical bay, France was delighted to see others (he was also surprised to see so many still alive, he thought a number of them had disappeared long ago) beginning to come to, albeit with terrified looks on their face (What was his petit Canada doing in there?). Him and Australia were given the charge of explaining who they were, what had happened and everything before unbinding them (as they had done to prevent them from attacking or running away or hurting themselves.

England and America were in America's room, America sleeping off the effects of the shifting and England slowly calming down from having fallen 16 stories while Zealand piloted. Prussia had taken a seat in the Operator's chair and was watching the tumbling green letters on the screen with both apprehension and with amusement.

Calling through the door he asked: "How are they doing?".

Prussia, seeming to take time to pick the right word (a rarity!) before he said. "Italy has the highest kill rate...Canada's one behind him and Russia's about to go batshit in the market...You're about to get a few...more. SHIT!"

At that, France got Australia's eye contact and they made a silent agreement, France sweeping out of the room and Australia taking over for the both of them.

"What is it Prusse?"

"It's an Agent." Prussia said, pointing to a stream of code then another and another. "so is that one and that one and that one and that one and that one and and and...But at the same time they're not, they're all the same. They're more like a virus."

"Alright, and?"

"One of them just absorbed the stream of code that was Norway and made him the same as him and he's heading straight for Russia, Canada and North Italy. I have no way of warning them."

"Absorb?"

"It's like he converts the data that makes them up into duplicates of his own data."

"So he's ... making copies of himself?"

"Essentially and from the looks of it, the entire main system has been taken over by him. I guess because we were put on a separate mainframe as the humans they were safe but he's making quick work of them now."

Prussia leaned back in his chair and shouted at Australia "Who hasn't awoken yet? How many are still trapped?"

"Give me a sec mate! Just um... Mexico, Norway, Brazil, South Korea, Ukraine, South Africa, Moldova, Taiwan, Egypt and China. What's going on?"

Prussia was desperately calling pay phones in the area, hoping desperately that one of the three would pick up while watching the screen. "They've all been absorbed, their code is gone. We need to get those three out of there now!"

**Ring.**

"C,mon."

**Ring.**

"C'mon. Pick up you bastards!"

**Ring.**

"PICK UP!" He shouted, frantically now.

 **Ri-** "Hello?"

"Veneziano! No time! You need to get out of there now! I'm bringing you in!"

 _"Prussia, wha...?"_ Italy said before he vanished and woke up on the ship. "What's going on Prussia?"

Prussia didn't answer he was too busy calling again.

**Ring.**

**Rin-** "Prussia? Just, ah! AGH!"

"Russia? RUSSIA!"

A sinister voice instead answered him. "I'm sorry but Mr. Braginski is unable to answer the phone right now." Gunfire could be heard in the background. "Please call back later."

"You fucker!"

**Click.**

France and him stared at the screen just as Canada came to with a groan.

"Canada! You're alright!"

"Barely. This agent rammed his hand into Russia's chest through the phone booth and somehow...took him over. I didn't even have time to react before he surrounded me so...I shot myself."

"Now what?" asked France.

"I don't know." Prussia admitted. "I guess we tell the others."

* * *

England and Australia finished getting all those fully rescued onto any bed or mattress they had on the ship before returning to the hacking area, everyone standing around the desk or sitting on one of the chairs.

"God damn it." America said as soon as they were all there (New Zealand and France being on speaker as they were busy flying the ship).

"No kidding." said Germany dryly, holding North Italy's hand tightly. He had nearly had an aneurism when he heard the close call the Italian had had and suddenly he was clingier then those that knew him thought him capable of ever being.

"So what do we do know?" Asked Canada (who was having a similar problem as Italy except it was both Prussia and America who refused to give him any personal space.)

"I don't know what we could do." England grudgingly admitted. "Or even where to begin. I've never heard or seen of anything like that."

"So what? Park the ship at broadcasting depth and hope for the best?" America snapped.

"It would appear that is the only real option. We can't return to Zion, they are under siege and it would be death to go there." Said Germany.

"I hate waiting." Grumbled New Zealand over the mic. "I hate not being able to do anything."

"Guys?" America said, refocusing their attention. "I think something big's going on."

England leaned over his shoulder and took a deep breath. "...My God."

"What?" Asked France. "What is going on?"

"Neo." England answered. "He's fighting all of those Agents."

Canada closed his eyes and looked to be concentrating heavily before he said sadly. "He's dying."

"What?" America deadpanned.

England answered. "It appears that Agent is absorbing him as well..."

"Now what will we do? He was the One wasn't he? The one destined to bring an end to the war?" Said Italy a little frantically.

"Prophecies rarely come true and destiny is a load of crock." Said Prussia, a little bitterly. "We will just have to survive as we always have."

They continued to bicker for a while before agreeing to take a break to check on the newly freed and to get some lunch.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, they were once again seated in the tiny room, bickering with no real point when England suddenly leaned forward, whacking America in the head as he did so, to grip the desk tightly and stared, fixated, at the screen.

"Ow, limey! What the hell?"

"Look! He did it! He somehow is erasing the duplication of data on the others!"

Looking over to the side screen, Prussia saw Russia's code reappear and gently pushed America and England out of the way so he could access the keyboard. "The Ruskie's back!"

Quickly clicking a few keys, he then grabbed the headset and made the call.

**Ring.**

**Ring.**

**Ring.**

**Ring.**

**Ring.**

"What the hell is the bastard doing?" Prussia grumbled.

"Who are you calling bastard, блядь?" Said Russia sweetly into the phone.

"Transferring." Prussia muttered and a second later, Russia's eyes opened beside them, Germany going to disconnect him.

Sitting up the Russian turned to Canada and Italy before saying. "I win da? I got the last ten, meaning I'm ahead by one."

Both Canada and North Italy's faces suddenly seemed to get a shadow over them and a dark aura spread over them before America (oblivious as ever) said incredulously "You made it a competition?"

Immediately the atmosphere seemed to lighten. "Yes America." Canada sighed. "If only to keep track of how many left there were to find."

"I'm a little disturbed by how easily you say that."

Germany staring at Italy in surprise. "You killed only one less person then _Russia_ Italien?"

* * *

It had been a few years since that day, when tenuous peace with the machines had been won and all of the nations freed. There were now plans in motion to make a colony up on the surface and they had also been running tests to see if there was anyway to fix the damage done to the sky. In the meeting hall, a memorial statue had been raised for those that had died in the siege of Zion and beside it, was a separate one dedicated solely to Neo and Trinity who had valiantly fought and died in Machine City. Both of which were designed and made by the nations using long-forgotten (by humans) techniques.

America stood there, fingers running over the familiar engravings that he had carved there.

_A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality._

Hearing light steps, he smiled knowing who it was without even turning around. "Do you think it was worth it in the end England? Their sacrifice? We both know this peace won't last."

A sigh then a light pressure around his middle as England hugged him from behind, resting his head on his shoulder. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Their actions have given us time. Time to build bigger and better ships and weapons, to raise children, to create weapons that will be more effective against them. If the war does start again, it will not be by our actions and this time it will be them we knock into the dust."

"I suppose." America said sadly.

England thought for a moment before he thought of something that would cheer up his American love. "You know...Prussia told me that he was going to be asking Canada to be his boyfriend today..."

"What! Where?" America said, ecstatic grin stretching across his face. Then he crowed jubilantly as he began dragging England to the exit. "I knew it! Canada may have refused to admit anything, but I knew it!"

Then he stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face a bemused (and resigned to being dragged around) England. "Dude...We should totally plan a party for them!"

So time went on, much as it always had, and yet, some things, England thought, never seemed to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think America calling England "Iggy" made a lot of sense as it is a little strange that he would be using an abbreviation of the Japanese word for England especially when by canon he's supposed to be culturally ignorant. So an old American term for an Englishman was limey (due to the barrels of limes sailors carried on ships to prevent scurvy) so I went with that instead.
> 
> In case any of you were wondering why Canada could sense what was going on, the actress who plays Trinity – Carrie-Ann Moss – and the actor who plays Neo – Keanu Reeves – are both Canadian. Soooo, I went with that.
> 
> Translations~  
> Muspilli (Old German- is one of the Nine Worlds found also in Norse mythology, the realm of fire. Is also the name of one of two surviving Old German epic poetry which talks about the end of the world)  
> Америки (Rus- America)  
> Engländer. (Ger- Englishman)  
> Da Amerika (Rus- Yes America)  
> Bene (It- Good)  
> petit (Fr- little)  
> Prusse (Fr- Prussia)  
> блядь (Rus- Whore/mistake (as in you were a 'surprise') / heresy/ slut)  
> Italien (Ger- Italy)


End file.
